


Oar & Canoe

by bornonthewrongside



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Kind of Sequel, Kissing in the Rain, Past Abuse, Tattoos, manbun!Sandor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornonthewrongside/pseuds/bornonthewrongside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ this can be read alone or as a sequel to Old Wounds Make New Art ] </p><p>Sansa goes on a date with tattoo artist Sandor Clegane after he tattoos a wolf on her scarred thigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oar & Canoe

Sansa stepped out of the shower while wrapping the towel around her chest. Her toes curled into the rug. Her long red hair was hanging in ropes around her face. She wiped the fog off the mirror, and stared into her reflection. Her face was red, as were her shoulders and chest. She knew hot showers weren’t good for the skin, but she didn’t care.

 

Taking off her towel, she began squeeze the water out of her hair. Looking at her naked body in the fogged mirror, Sansa saw the wolf tattoo bright against her pale skin. Faint scars shone lightly around her stomach; the only faint reminders of Joffrey. She hoped they would fade away with the bruises. Those had disappeared a long time ago; he used to color her skin blue and purple until it faded to green. Then he would do it over again. Sansa tried to shake the memories out of her head, but they were a part of her now. It made her stronger. 

 

_ Like a wolf, _ she remembered Sandor Clegane telling her. Sansa smiled slightly as she thought of Sandor Clegane - the big, almost terrifying tattoo artist. He really wasn’t that scary, not truly. She wrapped the towel around her chest again. He was kind, and gentle in the best way he could. She remembered seeing him for the first time; he did frighten her a bit - he was biggest the man she had ever met. His build reminded him of a warrior - large, defined muscles, big hands, and a stoic face. His long hair pulled into a bun seemed out of place, but she liked it. He had thought she was disgusted by the scars that took over half his face, but she wasn’t. She knew what it was like to have people stare at you for something you had no control over. His scars had surprised her at first, but she would never let it define him. Sandor Clegane may have looked like menace, but he was one of the kindest people she had ever met. He listened to her. Somebody had actually listened to her. 

 

Now she was going to see him at a coffee shop. Her heart started to pound as she thought about it. She wasn’t going to go; she barely knew him. Five hours over five weeks, that was nothing. But she wanted to see him again to talk to him again. She wanted to talk to him when their eyes were level, not when he was staring that most ugly part of her body. It wasn’t ugly now though. 

 

She picked up the edge of the towel to look at the wolf he had designed for her. It was strong and graceful. The linework of the fur was incredibly detailed, and the two eyes, one each a different color, one blue, one grey. She loved it. She no longer had to stare at an ugly, ugly scar. She remembered feeling beautiful all the time. She loved dressing up in skirts, dresses for anything and everything. She would do her makeup and her hair almost everyday. 

 

Sansa walked out of the bathroom towards her closet, and looked at all of the clothes she had not been able to wear for almost two years. Dresses, skirts, shorts, all of it. She wondered if she could even fit into them now, she had lost so much weight. She thought of Joffrey, and how he often called her fat. After he poured the boiling water onto her leg, she had finally had enough. She left, but she wasn’t whole anymore. 

 

It was only a couple of weeks ago that she felt comfortable to wear a dress again. It was yellow- the brightest color she had worn in over a year. She loved it. Sansa looked over her clothes again, and picked a long purple dress. She laid it out on her bed, thinking it was a good compromise. The weather outside looked dismal; dark clouds hung low in the sky, and the tree branches were being whipped by the vicious wind. She knew a storm was rolling in, and she hoped Sandor wouldn’t call her to cancel. As if reading her thoughts, her phone on her dresser vibrated. 

 

Sansa walked over to see a message from Sandor, “Tarly’s Brew right?” 

 

Sansa smiled despite herself, “Yes, that sounds perfect. See you around five?” Sansa typed back. 

 

Sansa pulled on a pair of underwear and a bra as another text came in, “How about four thirty? Or is that too soon?” 

 

She looked at the clock; it read 4:10. Laughing, she started texting back, “That might be a bit too soon, what about 4:45, at the earliest?” 

 

“I’ll hold you to it.” His text said. 

 

Sansa continued to smile, and set her phone down. She grabbed the dress, and pulled it over her head. It fell effortlessly over her hips. It was little big, but it wasn’t as bad as when she wore jeans. She sifted through a drawer to find a belt, then she cinched it around her waist. Looking at the mirror, Sansa smiled slightly. Maybe one day, she could feel truly beautiful again.

 

***

 

Sandor walked outside, and the wind began whipping the strands of hair falling out of the bun at the base of his head.  _ There’s a storm coming,  _ he thought as he walked with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The sun attempted to shine through the clouds, but it would come out for a few seconds before the clouds moved back over it. Scowling, Sandor pulled on his sunglasses anyway. They hung somewhat lopsided on his face because of his was slightly deformed from the scars. He doubt anyone would notice anyway; nobody looked at his for more than glance. They were terrified of him. 

 

Looking both ways across the street, Sandor thought of the small redhead sitting in his chair. She was afraid him when they first met. Everyone was, but she didn’t shy away from it as time went on. People refused to look in his general direction when he was speaking. It unnerved him when Sansa looked into his eyes and not at his scars. His heart would race, and his heart has  _ never  _ raced. There was something about having a gorgeous woman, who had no idea she was gorgeous, sitting five feet from him, looking right into his eyes, and not have a complete look of terror. 

 

Gods, she was truly beautiful. He wanted to rip out the fucker’s throat for ever hurting her. The scar on her thigh wasn’t terrible - the skin had healed evenly, but Sandor saw why Sansa thought it was horrid. Every other part of her was perfect. And this scar would be the reminder of the abuse she went through. No one should go through that, especially not a soul as gentle as hers. He couldn’t see her hurting anybody. She smiled often, and laughed sweetly. He hoped he would hear her laugh tonight. Her laugh reminded him of home. Not his home, but a future home. The one where you walk in, and everything feels right. Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. He barely knew Sansa Stark, but gods, he would like to. 

 

Tarly’s Brew was a small coffee shop located off the main road, quite hidden. He hoped it would be quiet in there; it often was whenever he went in. It was warm, and had the best damn cup of coffee he had ever had. The outside of it looked like a house, but had a large sign on the window with a steaming cup of coffee. Sandor walked up the steps, and pushed himself through the doorway. Warm air hit his face as he took off his sunglasses. The barista smiled gently at him, and then went back to work. 

 

Sandor scanned the room; it wasn’t likely Sansa was there yet. It was only 4:25. Most of the tables were empty, so Sandor took a seat at the one in the corner, tucked in right next to a window. He sat down heavily, and took off his jacket. He had on a long sleeve plaid shirt with a black undershirt, and then plain dark blue jeans. He did  _ not  _ stare at his closet for twenty minutes trying to figure out what to wear. 

 

The barista came out from behind the bar, and smiled at him, “Can I get anything for you?” 

 

Sandor shifted in his seat, “I’m actually waiting on someone.” 

 

She smiled again, “Not a problem, I’ll stop back when they get here.” 

 

“Thanks,” Sandor brought hand up to his head, and scratched around his bun. He needed to stop being so damned nervous.  _ She was the one to ask you, remember that.  _

 

But he couldn’t stop being nervous. He had only really known the girl for five hours, but those five hours were something completely different from anything else he had ever experienced. Heaving out a breath, Sandor undid the buttons at the cuff of his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. He needed to stop worrying. Breathing again, Sandor looked down at his phone. A new message came in. 

 

“I’m on my way! (:” Sansa Stark’s name read across the top. 

 

He smiled slightly, and set his phone on the table. He stretched his arms out in front of him, and looked at his tattoos. The different colors danced around each other, each one tellings it’s own story. Sandor loved tattoos; he loved how they told a story, how they expressed one’s self, but mostly he loved the disapproving looks from other people as he walked down the street. They often came from middle aged mothers. 

 

The door at the front chimed as it opened. Sandor glanced that way, and saw her. She stood with her hands clutching onto a purse. Her hair was braided to the side, with several pieces falling out. She wore a long deep purple dress that had a slit up the side. He didn’t notice any of this at first though. He could only see her eyes. They were wide, and so blue. He didn’t know if he should compare them to the sky or the ocean. When they made eye contact, they brightened. The corners of her eyes scrunched as she smiled. 

 

When she started walking, he noticed her leg peeking out from behind the fabric. The slit in the dress went high enough to just see the wolf. He wondered if she did that on purpose. 

 

“Hi,” She smiled at him again as she got closer.

 

Sandor stood before he knew what he was doing. He hesitated, and then pulled out her chair for her, and pushed it in as she sat down. 

 

“Thank you,” Her smile could lay a thousand men flat. 

 

“Not a problem,” He said curtly. He wanted to kiss her on the cheek, but he didn’t dare. 

 

“Do you come here often?” Sansa asked as she began to fiddle with a ring on her finger. 

 

“I wouldn’t say often, but they do make a mean cup of coffee. It’s a shame you don’t like coffee.” He smiled at her, and she made a face at him. 

 

The barista came back over to the table, “Hi there! How are you doing this evening?” 

 

“Quite well, thank you.” Sansa smiled at her, and Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

 

“Cup of coffee? Latte? Cappuccino?” The barista smiled at them, but Sandor noticed she looked at Sansa more than him. 

 

At the mention of cappuccino, Sansa started to laugh. “I am not a fan of Al Pacino. But a London Fog sounds wonderful.” 

 

Sandor smiled at her, and breathed out a quiet laugh. “Black coffee for me, thanks.” 

 

“Fantastic, I’ll be back shortly.” 

 

“That poor girl had no clue what you were talking about.” Sandor cocked an eyebrow at her. 

 

“No, but you did.” 

 

“Aye, I did.” Sandor smiled, but stopped himself. He knew what his scars looked like when he smiled. 

 

“I showed my sister the wolf. She’s in love with it. Thinks it’s beautiful. You’re a true artist.” Sansa touched her leg to his under the table. It was hard not to, both of them had long legs, and the table was relatively small. 

 

“Just my job, little bird.” Sandor’s mind focused on the pressure her leg was putting on his. He tried not to move. 

 

“That’s true, but your job requires talent. Which you have. A lot of it.” She scrunched her nose. 

 

Sandor shifted in his seat. Her leg still touched his. 

 

“You don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?” 

 

“I… No. I don’t. People don’t do it often I guess.” Sandor stumbled over his words. He wanted to kick himself. He should not be nervous. 

 

“Well, learn. Say thank you.” 

 

“Thank you, Sansa Stark.” He smiled slightly. 

 

“Much better.” Sansa smiled back at him.

 

The barista came back with their drinks, “There you go. If you need anything else, just ask.” 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa slid her cup closer, and took a sniff. 

 

“What exactly is a London Fog?” Sandor asked. 

 

Sansa looked up. He noticed she did something different with her eyes today. They were more defined, and darker around the edges. “It’s earl grey tea with steamed with vanilla and milk. The best thing ever.” 

 

“Sounds disgusting.” Sandor leaned back, and took a drink of his coffee. 

 

“Says that man who is drinking black coffee.” 

 

“That’s the way you’re supposed to drink coffee. Not with all the sugars and vanilla crap.” 

 

“So you like drinking dirt?” Sansa laughed, and it was music to his ears. 

 

“Of course, who doesn’t?” 

 

“Sometimes, Sandor Clegane, it is hard to find out if you’re joking or not.” She took a sip of her drink, and made a face. 

 

“Too hot?” Sandor raised an eyebrow again. 

 

“Just a bit.” Sansa smiled. 

 

They sat there for a few moments. Neither of them speaking. Sandor looked over Sansa as she looked out the window. Her hair was perfect. The perfect color, texture, and he was certain it would smell like flowers. She had a pair of small pearl earrings on that he could barely see underneath her hair. She had a habit playing with ends of her hair when she was in thought. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked her, his voice softer. 

 

“What do you mean?” She looked back at him, her eyes clouded. 

 

“You play with your hair when you’re thinking about something.” He leaned in closer. More people had come into the shop, and it was getting louder. 

 

“You know my quirks then, do you?” She bit her lip. He watched her lips before flicking his eyes back up to hers. 

 

“Some of them, but not all…” he paused, “yet.” 

 

“You must be very observant.” 

 

“You still didn’t answer the question.” He smiled, not thinking of his scars. 

 

“See? Observant.” She ran her hands up her arms. “I was thinking of how nice this is. I haven’t sat down and had coffee in a long time.” 

 

Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He could just listen to her voice for hours. It was soft, but it seemed to command attention. It was beautiful, just as the rest of her was. 

 

***

 

“What is it?” Sansa noticed Sandor’s eyes on her as she tried rub away goosebumps. 

 

“What?” His voice sounded like he came out of a dream. 

 

“You’re staring at me.” She said. He had leaned closer as more people came in. She had been closer to him than this before, but this time was different. They were at the same level, and they weren’t even touching. 

 

“Just thinking, sorry.” He breathed out. She had no idea how he seemed so cool and collected. She wanted to touch his hand that was resting on the table, instead she just twirled her cup in her hands. 

 

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what you’re thinking.” Sansa felt like she was smiling too much.

 

“I’m afraid that’s a secret.” He laughed roughly. 

 

Sansa looked around the cafe, and saw all types of people. Several were alone with their laptops or on their phones, others were with a groups of people, laughing about something. She hadn’t been out in such a long time; it was refreshing. She glanced at Sandor. When she first saw him, she wanted to drop her jaw. He was just sitting there, his body relaxed in the wooden chair. The plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows to show off his tattoos and his muscles. His hair was wrapped into a bun again. She hadn’t seen it down. 

 

“What does your hair look like down?” She asked before she could stop herself. 

 

“What?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude. I was just thinking that I’ve only seen it up.” Sansa sat up as she talked, then began to play with the ring on her finger. 

 

“It’s usually poofy after being up all day at work. Do you want to see it down?” He brought his hands up to his hair, and pulled on the binder. His hair fell effortlessly down, Sansa noted with a twinge of jealously. 

 

It wasn’t poofy. It fell around his shoulders, curled from being up. Sansa looked at it with wonder. She had never seen a man with hair that long. She reached out a hand, but withdrew it. 

 

“You can touch it,” He whispered, taking a deep breath in. 

 

“Okay,” Sansa smiled slightly. She reached her hand out once more, and twirled a lock in between her fingers. It was soft and thick. 

 

“What made you want to grow your hair out?” She asked as her fingers continued to twirl his hair around and around. 

 

“Both my father and brother hated long hair.” Sandor said, his voice huskier. 

 

Sansa scooted the chair closer to his, not taking her hand out of his hair. 

 

“So you wanted to rebel?” Sansa whispered. 

 

“Yes,” was his simple reply. 

 

“I did that once,” Sansa bit her lip. “Joffrey hated me in heels. They made me taller than him. We had to go to an event, it was formal, and we had to drive separately. But I showed up in the heels, and towered over him for the night. He absolutely hated it.” 

 

Sandor laughed softly, “Little bird’s got a bite.” 

 

She noticed him glancing at her hand, so she withdrew it. Resting her hands on the table, Sansa bit her lip again. “I wouldn’t say that.” 

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Stark.” 

 

“Oh,” Sansa laughed, “is it Stark, now?” 

 

“Aye, that is your name. Is it not?” Sandor smirked at her, and Sansa felt her stomach drop. His eyes glistened, and she couldn’t look away. He wasn’t attractive in the common way, and gods, she loved that. He was so much more interesting than beautiful. She felt that each time she looked at him, she was gazing upon a new piece of art. 

 

“Yes, I am afraid you’re right.” She tore her eyes away from his, looking around the cafe again, and then out the window. 

 

The clouds painted the sky a darker shade of grey, and the wind blew stray pieces of garbage across the street. Rain was coming; she thought she heard the distant sound of thunder. Sansa loved days like this, when the threat of a storm was coming on, but it wasn’t quite happening yet. She would often curl into her blankets, light some candles, and read her favorite book. 

 

“Little Bird, what are you thinking of?” He asked again. 

 

“Oh, nothing really in particular. I just love this weather.” She stretched out her arms, and glanced back the window before looking at him. 

 

“I think it’s nice as well, though that’s a not a popular opinion.” 

 

“You don’t seem to be a man who concerns himself with what’s popular.” 

 

“Aye, that would be right.” Sandor slipped off his flannel, and laid it across his lap. Sansa watched as he brought one arm up to scratch the back of his neck; she noticed the canoe tattoo from her last session with him. 

 

“You never told me the story of the canoe tattoo.” Sansa raised her eyebrows. 

 

“What?” Sandor contorted his arm to see the canoe as best he could. Sansa was surprised he could do that, given the amount of muscle on his arm. “Oh, it’s really not that interesting.” 

 

“You know the stories behind all my tattoos.” Sansa smirked at him., 

 

Sandor stared at her for a second, and then shook his head with a small smile. “It’s not interesting. I just went on a trip with my sister, and we spent most of the time canoeing.” 

 

“Sandor Clegane,” Sansa fake-scolded him, “I know there is more to the story.” 

 

“It was the last thing we did together before she died.” Sandor paused, not looking at Sansa. “It was quiet, and only lasted two days, but it was good. She loved being out on the water; she was a calm soul. Never hurt anything, never yelled, never judged. She often sang a song about an oar and canoe. I don’t remember it - it was so long ago - but I loved her voice.” 

 

Sandor didn’t look at as she spoke. He didn’t seem to look at anything, really. His eyes had a glaze over them as he was lost in past memories. Before she could stop herself, Sansa grabbed his hand, and gripped it. He looked at her then, and squeezed her hand back. 

 

“You love her very much,” Sansa said as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

 

“I did. I do. You’re right, I do still. Not in the past.” 

 

“Where did the trip take place?” Sansa asked, hoping to not make him so sad. 

 

“Way up north. It’s this closed off area with beautiful lakes and heavily wooded areas. I’m a little bird like yourself would love it.” 

 

“I do love nature.” Sansa was increasingly aware that her hand was still in his. But neither of them made an effort to move it. 

 

A loud boom of thunder shook the glass on the window. Sansa jumped, and tightened her hand against Sandor’s. 

 

“Goodness, that startled me.” Sansa laughed, as she brought her other hand to her chest. Her heart was racing, and she doubted it was from the thunder.

 

Sandor slipped his hand from hers, and grabbed his flannel off his lap, and put it on. “I suppose I should get you back to your next before the storm rolls in.” 

 

“Oh,” Sansa breathed out, a bit disappointed. She felt they had only been there for an hour, but when she looked at her phone, she saw that it was almost seven thirty. “I guess we’ve been here for a while.” 

 

“A bit longer than a while,” Sandor smirked at her, and then walked to the register to pay. 

 

Sansa dug through her purse, and left a five dollar bill on the table. Sandor walked back over, fitting his wallet into his back pocket. 

 

“That’s a generous tip,” Sandor said as he wrapped his jacket around his forearm. 

 

“Well, I could hardly let you pay and leave the tip, now could I?” Sansa smiled, and walked in front of him as he gestured her to do so. 

 

Sansa opened the door, and held it for him as he walked through. The cold wind whipped her dress around legs, and her hair attempted to break free from the braid. Sandor’s hair lashed around his face. With an annoyed look, he wrapped it up, and tied the binder around it. Sansa stared at him while he did this. 

 

“Is there something I can help you with, Ms Stark?” Sandor drawled out sarcastically. 

 

Sansa giggled for a moment, then bit her lip, “No, Mr Clegane, there isn’t.” 

 

He stepped closer to her, and she could feel his breath on cheek, “Do you bite your lip quite often, Ms Stark?” 

 

Sansa flicked her eyes up at his, and tried not to bit her lip again, “Does it bother bother you?” 

 

“Quite the contrary.” Sandor’s fingers touched hers, and they intertwined together for a moment. “Are you cold?” 

 

Sansa felt the goosebumps pop up on her arms, but it wasn’t from the cold. “I guess so,” 

 

Sandor didn’t say anything, he just took his jacket off his arm, and draped it over her shoulders. 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa smiled. 

 

“Which way is your apartment?” He asked. 

 

“It’s only a couple of blocks from here, I can walk myself.” 

“Not bloody likely,” Sandor coughed out a laugh.

 

Sansa laughed, a deep hearty laugh. “Well, alright then. I live down this way.” 

 

She started walking down the street with Sandor in step right beside her. Their fingers brushed as they walked. Just the small amount of contact sent sparks up Sansa’s arm, which confused her. She had spent hours with him touching her body, but this… This is was so innocent, and… She didn’t know how to describe it. This little bit of touch made her stomach knot, it drove her crazy. 

 

When their hands brushed each other’s again, Sansa slipped her fingers in his. She didn’t look at him, but he tightened his hand around hers. It was a perfect fit. 

 

Sansa smiled to herself; she looked towards the other direction so Sandor wouldn’t see her. They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes until they reached Sansa’s apartment building. 

 

“This is me,” Sansa looked up at him, and smiled. 

 

He gazed down at her, and smiled back. Sansa bit her lip under his gaze. 

 

“Sansa Stark, you are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have seen.” Sandor said in a low voice. Thunder sounded as he talked; rain was almost here. 

 

“I’m afraid you haven’t looked very hard then,” Sansa whispered. 

 

They were close to each other. Stray pieces of hair from her braided whipped against his chest. She looked up, and took a shaky breath in. His free hand trailed up her arm to her shoulder. They were so close to each other, Sansa saw a raindrop fall onto his scarred cheek. It slid down onto his neck.

 

“Sansa Stark,” He whispered, his voice was the only thing Sansa could hear. “I would like very much to kiss you.” 

 

Sansa bit her lip, “I would like that as well.” 

 

The rain continued to drop, faster and harder now. Slowly, Sandor lowered his lips to hers, and Sansa pushed herself onto her toes. Their lips met somewhere in the middle. It was soft, but Sansa’s mind blanked. She couldn’t hear anything, not the thunder, the traffic, the rain. She could only feel his hand in hers, and his arm around her shoulder. She could taste the coffee on his lips, and smell the faint traces of cologne on his shirt. 

 

Sandor broke away from the kiss, his breathing unsteady. 

 

“I would love to see you again, Little Bird.” 

 

Sansa bit her lip, and nodded, “I would love that much more than you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> This is a lot longer than I originally thought it was going to be.  
> like i said in the summary, you can read it alone or as a sequel, I prefer you read it as a sequel, some things will make more sense, but that's just my opinion. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I appreciate it. I love all you guys so much! Writing fanfics has really been a stress reliever for me over the past couple years. ( i think it's working too, bc i just graduated with Distinction from my school ) 
> 
> If you like it, and want to make my day, please leave a comment! I love them almost as much as i love you! 
> 
> also, i should add, the scene where she's touching his hair is one of my favorite, bc i think touching hair, playing with hair is just so intimate and i love it. 
> 
> any way, much love!  
> xox


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